Jack leaned forward and took Lucile’s hand. “Please,” he urged. “Just a little short letter—anything, as long as you write. Won’t you please?”
Then Lucile’s last little barrier gave way and, with a quick, half-whispered “All right,” she ran to join her father and mother, who had caught the little inter-change and had regarded each other with troubled eyes. “Perhaps it’s just as well we are going to Europe,” Mrs. Payton had said, and Mr. Payton had nodded an unusually grave consent.
Jessie and Evelyn were engrossed in taking leave of their folks, who were half laughing, half crying at the thought of parting with them for so long. 78
Again the warning cry, “All ashore that are going ashore!” and, with a last hug and kiss and cry of “Take care of yourselves and be good,” the ladies, assisted by their impatient escorts, hurried down the gangplank and were instantly lost to sight among the jostling mob down below.
“Phil, run and get the spy-glasses—quick!” directed Mrs. Payton. “They are in the grip in my stateroom. Here’s the key—hurry!”
So Phil raced off as directed and the rest were pushed up against the rail by the crowd that pressed four deep behind them, all striving eagerly for a last sight of the dear ones on the wharf.
“Where are they?” cried Jessie, frantically. “I can’t see a soul——Oh, yes; there’s Dad’s hat, I know—look, he’s waving it——”
“And there’s your mother, too, Evelyn,” Lucile broke in. “See, she’s waving her handkerchief——”
“Oh, I can see them all now,” said Evelyn, dancing up and down excitedly. “They’re all there, oh—oh-h——”
“Here’s Phil,” said Lucile, making room for him, as he wormed his way through. “He didn’t waste much time.”